


Holding Out for a Hero 3: The Wedding Episode

by J_Q



Series: Holding Out for a Hero [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Lots of angst...not, Love, M/M, Romance, Sex, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 18:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13746825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Q/pseuds/J_Q
Summary: Holding Out for a Hero part 1 is, according to comments, “part Raiders of the Lost Ark, part Shameless, part Scarface” in which you will find Mickey “slicing his way through the jungles of Central America” in this “Gallavich jungle adventure that I never (always?) knew I needed”.Holding Out for a Hero part 2 has “Mickey, in a unicorn tank, taking out a cartel baddie with... a slingshot. I mean, does it get any better than that? The only thing that beats it is a lovely, jizz soaked proposal.”Holding Out for a Hero part 3 is the result of this comment: “That’s it? No wedding, no Mandy, no Yev?”





	1. And all these wars are over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raine_on_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_on_me/gifts).



> The song selection for part 3 is "Dolphin's Cry" by Live. Beautiful song and fascinating video.

The Rafael Núñez International Airport serves the port town of Cartagena, Colombia. Despite being the fourth largest airport in the country, parking was still a bitch, so Mickey planned to drop Ian at the international flights door and come back to pick him and Mandy up. Pulling up to the set of revolving doors, he put the Jeep in park and turned to Ian.

“Text when she’s got her luggage and I’ll swing back around here.”

Ian leaned in and kissed him long and hard on the lips. His hand reached around to add an awkward hug.

“Jesus, Gallagher, it’s only gonna be about a half hour. You’re not going off to war, man.”

In response, Ian gave him another kiss, on the tip of his nose. Then he grabbed the door handle and jumped out. At the revolving door, he turned back and waved. When Mickey shook his head, Ian blew him a kiss and waited. And waited. Resignedly, Mickey lifted his hand and formed a fist, shaking his head. Again. Ian smiled somewhat smugly and turned toward the terminal.

Once inside, he took a left and headed toward the international flights arrival waiting area. As he took a seat in one of the plastic chairs, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Mickey: Love you dumbass

Ian punched in 27 bright red hearts and added “the number of days til you’re my husband”. Sliding the phone into the pocket of his shorts, he smiled contently. He and Mickey were getting married, and he was waiting at the airport to pick up Mandy. Almost daily, he pinched himself because he honestly couldn’t believe this was his life. Living in Colombia, living with Mickey, managing rental properties, picking up Mandy for a month-long visit!

Did he deserve to be this happy? For most of his life, he’d have said no. But now that he was 30 and had some wisdom, he could look back on who he was when he was younger. He could see why he made the decisions he did, and he could forgive himself for those decisions. It helped that Mickey could also forgive him. And maybe slowly he was learning to trust him again.

Back when he was 20, love wasn’t enough, not for him at least, not then. He’d devastated both of them when he’d tried to erase Mickey from his life rather than deal with all shit trying to destroy him. It hadn’t taken him long to realize what the cost was going to be. Laying in bed at night with nothing to distract him from loneliness and all his losses, and in those days, it felt like his whole life was just one big loss. His childhood, his dreams, his mind, and, ultimately, his heart.

He’d kept moving but he never went anywhere. Like a leaf blowing in the wind, he thought now with a little smirk at his sentimentality. It was easy to look back on all that shit now because he’d found Mickey again. But for more than ten years, it was all too painful to even think about. Over the years he’d moved from certainty that Mickey would contact him, to disbelief that he hadn’t, to anger that he could just move on without him, to despair that he’d live the rest of his life without ever getting a chance to see him or tell him what he needed him to know. Eventually, he’d arrived at reluctant acceptance, but he had kept all Mickey related memories locked firmly behind a reinforced door with more locks than he could count.

The reluctant acceptance had allowed him to move on with his life and actually get his shit together. On his own. Trusting his instincts and his mind. It had felt good and he’d been reasonably happy.

Then Mickey had dropped back into his lap in the shape of a bloody hero, a fully grown, confident, man of the fucking world. If Ian thought he’d fallen fast and hard when he was a kid, it had nothing on what had happened to him last summer. He’d once asked Fiona how to live without the thrill once you’ve felt it. He’d found a way to live without it for a long time, but now he was fucked for life. He wasn’t gonna be able to live without it again.

Maybe, he concluded, that’s what they had been waiting for, a time when they were both mature enough to handle what they had. Fuck, he was moving beyond sentimental into emotional.

Much to his relief the heavy, metal international flights doors opened, and American Airlines passengers arriving from Miami poured out. He jumped up, looking for what he assumed would be a brunette head, but he could never be sure. The handful of times he’d seen Mandy since they all lived together, her hair had changed almost every time he’d seen her, but over Christmas when he and Mickey had returned to Chicago, it was a light brown and shorter than he’d ever seen it.

And that’s what he spotted. She looked tentative and a little tired, but all Mandy. He knew she’d spot him quickly as he never changed and always stood out in a crowd, especially a South American one. She smiled when she saw him. He made his way around a group of women who’d stopped in the middle of the crowd to get their bearings, and then he wrapped his arms around her. She relaxed into them and held on.

“I’m so fucking excited you’re here. I have about a thousand things on our to do list. It’s going to be so much fun,” he rambled into her ear. She pushed against his chest and sighed as they separated.

“Can we start with finding a fucking bathroom? I gotta pee like a racehorse.”

He grabbed her carry on and waited outside the ladies’ room, thinking about how the three of them were being given a second chance. Ian and Mickey had a second chance to be there for Mandy. Maybe she didn’t even want their help, but Ian wasn’t gonna start listening to what other people want now. Not about this. He was only letting her get on a return flight home if he was completely convinced that she would be better off.

Her willowy frame appeared, and her sharp eyes surveyed the airport as she walked toward him. She was never a fucking pushover, so he had to tread lightly—or try to anyway. Make her see that a life here with them was exactly what she needed.

Exiting the building with her luggage, Mandy gasped a little. “Oh my god, feel that air. It’s so warm and humid. I could get used to this.” She paused for moment on the sidewalk. “Are those fucking palm trees?”

Smiling and nodding happily, Ian thanked the Southern hemisphere for working with him in his life goals. “Wait until you see the beach and swim in the ocean. Fucking amazing,” he added, figuring he might as well start his campaign right now.

Ian spotted Mickey leaning against the Jeep’s hood smoking. He watched them approach, and Ian could sense Mandy tense slightly, always unsure how to handle hellos and good-byes. Too emotional and too full of bad memories. Just as Ian was about make a lighthearted remark, Mickey flicked his smoke across the tarmac and lifted his chin at Mandy.

“Get over here so I can give you a titty twist,” Mickey said. When she hesitated like she wasn’t sure if he really wanted her to come forward, he lifted his arm and she stepped into the one arm hug.

“You don’t smell like bar-b-cue sauce anymore,” she teased, punching his shoulder when he tightened his hold on her neck.

Ian laughed. “That’s when I knew I was gonna fall in love with him. He always smelled like things I loved.”

“Fuck yeah, let’s go for bar-b-cue. We haven’t been to Pepe Ancha since your birthday,” Mickey said opening the back of the Jeep.

 

  

“What about the bus full of Catholic nuns?” Sebastián was laughing so hard that Ian had to clarify that he had said Catholic nuns. Despite not knowing the story, the table full of people were laughing like they had been there to see Mickey dealing with a bus full of religious women.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey mumbled, but he laughed behind his uplifted hand before reaching for his beer. “That shit was stressful. Easier to deal with a Jeep full of guerillas.”

Sebastián nodded, waves of sleek, dark hair glinting in the dim light of the restaurant. “I believe they were in agreement. I do not know how many times they performed the sign of the cross.”

“Every fucking time I opened my mouth.” He smiled around the lip of the beer bottle. Then upended it into his waiting mouth with a sigh of pleasure.

“So Mickey had to escort a bus full of nuns through the Colombian jungle?” Mandy was wide-eyed. She turned to Sebastián for confirmation.

“Si, bella, he of course charmed them with his sweet nature.” The thick lashes of one of Sebastián’s dark eyes winked at her and Ian watched her damn near swoon. Then the Colombian shifted his attention to Mickey. The affection on his handsome face was palpable. “As he has done with all of us, no?”

Despite the attention he was giving Mickey, Sebastián’s full attention seemed to always be on his boyfriend, Dante, who didn’t seem to be in any way threatened by Sebastián’s wandering eyes. So Ian searched his heart for jealousy at the small smile Mickey gave Sebastián or for envy over the stories that they had to share. Stories about a life Mickey lived both without him but also lived well. Full of adventure and heroics and unbelievable stories, especially for a Southside kid. And a Milkovich no less.

All he found in his heart was pride. And relief.

No surprise even. He had known when he was 15 what it was he was falling for. Maybe Mickey’s potential wasn’t as obvious to everyone in the neighborhood then, but Ian knew. Oh, he knew all right. It was like a fire in his blood back then.

The Pepe Ancha server dropped off their garlic shrimp appetizers, smiling openly and longingly at Mandy before leaving obviously hoping for a returned look. But she appeared to only have eyes for the four men at the table. Even though they were all gay and in committed relationships.

“God, what else has my brother done while we withered away in Chicago?” Mandy asked shaking her head in amazement and biting into a shrimp.

“Mm, he was bitten by a fer-de-lance,” Sebastián began, lowering his baritone voice so everyone moved forward slightly in anticipation. Ian whipped his head toward Mickey in surprise.

“He was?” Ian’s voice was a little more high pitched than he intended.

“Si, it was a six-foot viper with fangs an inch long.”

“Sounds like a fucking fishing story, man.” Mickey shook his head, dismissing the whole thing.

“I do not exaggerate,” Sebastián protested.

“That’s literally all you do,” Mickey protested right back.

“What happened?” Ian demanded, anxiety creeping into the fun.

“This was, of course, while I still maintained my status as an undercover agent working within Herrara’s cartel. Perhaps four years ago, Mickey and I were moving some cocaine from one location to another and we were ambushed by—” he stopped and laughed at Mickey’s expression.

“By who?” Mandy prompted, looking between the men.

“By girls.”

“Girls?”

“Si, the FARC are no longer gender exclusive. All are welcome if they are willing to fight for the people’s cause.”

“Fucking effective too,” Mickey said pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t shootin’ no fucking girls. So they ended up taking all our shit and we had to walk back and the rest is history.”

Ian shook his head. “No, it’s not. You can’t just tell me you were bitten by the deadliest snake in the world and leave it at that.”

They shared a long look that started to get tense. Ian wasn’t sure why he was getting so riled up as Mickey was clearly fine and had for the most part given up that way of life. But his anxiety and helplessness were rearing their ugly heads and Mickey wasn’t helping by being so nonchalant about it all.

“We were about a kilometer from the nearest river valley and trying to get our bearings,” Sebastián explained. His voice carried a hint of command that got Ian’s attention. “Mickey climbed the roots of a buttressed tree to get a look around. When he jumped back down, he landed on the viper.”

Everyone turned to Mickey. He gave them all an annoyed look, but Ian’s fingers on his thigh got his attention. Their eyes met, and Ian’s asked him to continue the story. He wanted to hear it from Mickey’s lips no one else’s.

With a little huff, he complied. “I hit the ground and it felt like a fucking double sided spearpoint blade was shoved into my shin.”

Ian’s heart squeezed tight. He would know specifically what type of knife it felt like, and Ian had been getting a lesson in weapons the last year, so he asked, “A Benchmade-Infidel?”

“Fuckin’ rights. An out-the-front automatic no less, jesus.” He glanced at Ian clueless to how fucking cute he was. “So I grabbed the fucker by it’s pointy goddamn head and stuck my own spearpoint into its stupid face. Last thing it saw was my own smug fucking face.”

The table was wide eyed and silent at this, so he continued. “My heart was pumping outta my fucking chest, and I know you gotta stop the venom from spreading too quickly. I tried to think about calm things like the ocean and—” he paused and did not look at Ian. “Anyway, we weren’t that far from a shithole of a village called Capeturia. There’s an old shaman there, Yiripua, gets you drunk and when you sober up, you’re cured.”

“Seco,” Sebastián clarified. “A sugarcane based liquor with Yiripua’s secret ingredient.”

“Best ten bucks I ever spent,” Mickey nodded in seriousness. “Hell of a hangover though.”

“That’s it? You drank some booze and you were fine? Did you go to a doctor?” Ian was getting worked up again thinking about all the times that Mickey should have probably not survived. “Fuck.”

“No, that’s not all. I had a fucking sore shin forever.”

“I had to take care of him for several days following the harrowing event,” Sebastián announced in his smooth as honey voice. “I promise that he was in very good hands, Ian.” Every eye at the table watched, hypnotized as strong tanned fingers caressed the edge of his wine glass, making their way along the rim round and round.

Mandy broke first. “Fuck, Mickey, you must have a magic dick.” If she only knew, Ian thought.

They were thankfully interrupted by the server with their main course of ribs and fried yuca. Ian was ready for conversation that didn’t involve Mickey’s near-death experiences or his near Sebastián’s dick experiences, but Mickey was just getting started apparently. “Then there was the time the asparagus farmers hired me to strongarm the wannabe local drug producers.”

“Jesus.” Ian put his knife and fork down.

“No big deal, Gallagher, they weren’t even _real_ drug runners. Just a bunch of punks playing with guns,” Mickey took a big bite of meat. “They weren’t a bunch of nuns, that’s for fuckin’ sure."

 

 

Mickey stood outside the condo’s solid wood door hesitating. His hand was raised ready to knock, but he couldn’t bring himself to follow through. His eyes traced the number 13 engraved into the wood and decided that was a sign. He should probably just head home. Forget this stupid fucking idea. What was he thinking anyway? Technically, he hadn’t done it yet, so he could change his mind. There was still time to make a run for it. No shame in changing your mind. It’s not the same thing as pussying out. Nope. Just changing his--

And the door swung open.

He was pulled into strong arms and kissed on each cheek. Warm lips pressed into his skin and warm hands grabbed his shoulders in a firm hold. By the time he realized what had happened, he was in the apartment and the door was closing behind him.

“Mickey,” Sebastián practically sang. “You are here. Dante did not believe you would follow through with this.”

“Dante can kiss my ass. A fact he is well aware of,” he said raising his voice to make sure Sebastián’s boyfriend heard him from wherever the fucker was holed up.

“You will come around to loving him. He has a beautiful soul.”

Un-fucking-likely hung in the air unsaid, but Mickey moved further into the bright open apartment. He spotted Dante sitting in an oversized dark leather chair near the patio doors, his skinny legs hanging over the arm of the chair, a book in his hand. Narrowing his eyes, Mickey returned his attention to Sebastián. “Let’s just do this and get it over with.” His agitation escaping through his hand gestures.

“With an attitude like that, we will never achieve our goal,” Sebastián pouted, soft lips turning down. “Dante, _mi vida_ , our guest needs to relax. What can we offer him?”

Dante uncurled himself from the chair, his jeans like a second skin, his face a maze of metal piercings. The tattoos on his neck and arms a reminder to Mickey of why he had a fucking bone to pick with the asshole. It still got under his skin that the little shit broke into his house and stole his fucking boyfriend. He didn’t give one fuck that Ian adored him. Mickey didn’t handle people fucking around with his access to Ian very well.

“Cerveza?”

“Dos,” Mickey mumbled, crossing his arms.

“How are the wedding plans coming along?” Sebastián asked, like he was actually interested in hearing about fucking flowers and shit.

“You keep asking me that.”

“You are getting married, or am I mistaken?”

“It’s all going fine,” he begrudgingly offered. “It helps that Mandy’s here. She’s a girl, which must fucking mean you genetically know about wedding decorations cause nothing in our shitty upbringing would a prepared her for wedding planning. Plus she keeps Ian busy. Guy’s a handful at the best of times.”

Dante set the two beer bottles on the metal and glass coffee table. Mickey knew it was time, so he guzzled half a beer in one swig then returned it to the table. “I’m fucking ready.” The clunking of glass on glass punctuating his announcement.

Sebastián looked him up and down doubtfully. “While you finish your beer, you can watch Dante and I then join in. You are still too uptight. This will only work if you are relaxed.” He stepped closer to Mickey and dug his long fingers into the bunched muscles of his shoulders. “This must be an open conversation between our bodies. You understand?”

Mickey watched the defined muscles in Sebastián’s forearms as they flexed in an effort to break down Mickey’s resistance. He wanted to pull away from the touch, and the ridiculous words, but knew that was exactly why Sebastián was pushing his boundaries. If he couldn’t handle this, then they might as well stop here cause this was nothing compared to what was to come. More intimacy than Mickey wanted to think about, his body in Sebastián’s hands, under his command. So he let himself be touched and consciously focussed on letting those fingers relax his muscles. But he was only capable of so much. After less than a minute, he barked, “Let’s just fucking dance already.”

 

 

Mandy had no idea that she could feel this relaxed and peaceful, like every worry she’d ever had was 4000 miles away and not just in physical distance. But just miles away period. Ian had driven them about an hour outside the Cartagena city limits to Isla Barú and the beaches of Playa Blanca. As the Jeep made its way through the crowded city streets and over the Canal del Dique, her favorite redhead talked non-stop about everything they were seeing and what he and Mickey had done here and there. Where they’d eaten or stayed or where their rental properties were located. Every now and then as the long line of the coast whizzed past them, they would grin at each other as the wind whipped at their hair through the open top of the Jeep.

Now they were stretched out on their stomachs covered in sunscreen and watching the tide roll in and out. Their towels protected them from the hot white sand; the endless mangrove trees protected them from the unforgiving heat. Ian called it their day off, but Mandy felt like no matter what you did here, you were on a day off, even cleaning rental properties. Ian kept making noises about her staying, that they would look after her until her dying day if she agreed to stay.

She lit a cigarette and blew a plume of smoke toward the endless blue sky, watching through her sunglasses as it dissipated slowly. “I have a date tomorrow night,” she said with a grin when Ian’s head whipped around in surprise.

“Wait. With Tomás?” When she shrugged, he added, “You weren’t just talking about stocking the bar for the wedding.”

“He’s any okay guy?” she asked referring to the bartender at the bar where the wedding was booked.

“Yes, he hangs out with us at the bar when it’s quiet,” he replied thoughtfully. “No red flags.”

“We’re going to a salsa club.”

“Café Havana? I love it there. Mick hates it,” he added smirking. “Cause I can’t keep my hands off of him when sexy music is playing.”

“TMI, Ian,” she said scrunching up her nose playfully. “Will you guys come with us? I’d feel better.”

“Well, you heard me. Mickey and sexy music. We’ll be there.” They smiled at each other. “You can see for yourself what I mean about my hands.” She kicked him in the back of his calf with her sandy toes.

“So are you and Mick gonna exchange vows?” Mandy asked passing her cigarette to Ian.

“He said and I quote, “I vow to walk out of the fucking bar if you start spouting off romantic shit in public” unquote.” They laughed.

“You have to say something anyway. He could use some public acknowledgment, Ian.”

“How mad do you think he’d be?”

“He’s all bluster, especially where you’re concerned. Just make it short and simple,” she said then added, more subdued. “He’s so different now, yet exactly the same. Ya know?”

“Yeah, I know. A mind-blowing combination of bad-ass motherfucker and sweetheart,” Ian all but sighed.

She nodded but waved the nearly burned out cigarette. “He was always those things. There’s something else. Like he’s peaceful, maybe.”

“He doesn’t have to struggle and fight for every fucking thing anymore. And he did that all by himself. I think he’s proud of that. Not that he’d ever admit it.”

“Yeah. He’s okay with himself,” Mandy said quietly.

“When he looked up at me in that bar in Panama, I almost fainted. I had adjusted myself to never seeing him again. To knowing he was out there somewhere but lost to me. Then I was in the same room as him again,” Ian laughed a little. “I may never fully recover from that moment. Then he saved me and Lip and stopped a shipment of drugs.”

They stared at each other then burst into laughter at the absurdity of their life at this moment.

“And now we live here, doing this.” He waved his hand around the lightly populated beach.

“Fuck,” she added, stubbing her cigarette into the soft sand. “Okay, we should do some wedding planning. Mick stayed behind today to do and I quote, “wedding shit” unquote. We better do some too.”

Ian swiped into his phone and pulled up his wedding notes. “Let’s see. We’ve done good work this week, you and me. We make a great team. Hint hint.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed. “You and me cleaning big fancy houses together is your dream. You dream big, Ian.”

“Well, we pay people to help me, so why not keep it in the family?” He slid over until he was pushed up against her side and able to lean his head on her shoulder. “I need you to stay here. Badly.”

She shrugged his head off her shoulder. “Pushy asshole. You got flowers on that list? Like for your lapels?”

He looked up, surprised. “No!”

 

                                                                                                   

As the strong, warm beats of the music filled Sebastián’s spacious living room, the two men fit themselves together, and Mickey chugged healthily from the beer bottle in his hand hoping to get miraculously drunk off two beers. Without even a mild buzz though, he watched Sebastián slide his hand around Dante’s fingers and his other hand around his back, holding him closely as they started to move. In sync. Forward. Backward. Mickey watched the rhythm of their movements, the way their bodies molded together and felt the terror, the sheer absurdity of moving his body like that in public.

And doing it while pressed against Ian and trying not to look like a lovesick fool. Fuck. Maybe he should rethink his song choice, go with something less…meaningful. Something that didn’t get him all emotional and shit when he heard it.

Sebastián’s hips pushed into Dante’s, rolling and turning, and coaxing his partner’s hips to move with his. Dante appeared to know exactly what Sebastián wanted him to do, where he was supposed to be at any given time. Mickey couldn’t figure out how he knew, but the young punk matched Sebastián movement for movement. They stared into each other eyes, never once looking at their feet or around them. Just communicating through body movement.

It wasn’t that Mickey was a stranger to the idea of using his hips to communicate what he needed, but he saved that shit for the bedroom, or back alley, or the jeep. Location wasn’t the issue, other fucking people was the problem.

Looking at the two men now, Mickey figured he basically needed to fuck Ian in front of their family and friends. Jesus, what had he gotten himself into?

Sebastián moved away from his partner a little but maintained the pattern he had created, the backward, forward, side to side. His arm opened in invitation, and Mickey couldn’t think of much he wanted to do less than to walk into those arms. Fuck it. The beer bottle met the other on the coffee table.

When he reached Sebastián, he was pulled between the two men. His eyes met Dante’s dark, heavily lashed ones and they had a childish staring contest until Sebastián lifted Mickey’s hand and pushed it into Dante’s. Mickey’s other hand lifted to Dante’s back. He could feel warm flesh beneath the lightweight t-shirt and wondered for a moment what Ian would think of him getting dance lessons from these two. Then Sebastián’s hands landed on either side of Mickey’s hips and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The three of them stood there momentarily as the song changed. Awkward as fuck, at least from Mickey’s perspective.

As a new and equally sultry song began, he felt Sebastián’s hip along his backside and he jerked forward causing Dante to step backward. They repeated this pattern for a moment with Mickey responded skittishly to each of Sebastián’s gentle touches, whether they were from his hands or his hips.

“Your body is communicating for you, Mickey.” The soft voice behind him said.

“It is saying, I do not know how to dance.” The cool voice in front of him smirked.

“My body will be communicating with your face in a minute,” he smirked back narrowing his eyes at the scrawny little bastard.

“Boys,” Sebastián sighed. “When you are dancing with a partner, you must remember the emotions you want to portray in your movements.”

Mickey closed his eyes in actual physical pain.

“What emotions do you want to portray when you are dancing with Ian?”

He remained stubbornly silent.

“Resistance? Unwillingness?” His hands squeezed the sides of Mickey’s hips. “Or joy? Love? Pleasure?”

“Yeah, whatever, those ones.”

Sebastián laughed and the warm breath tickled Mickey’s neck. He shivered in response. “There was a response we can work with!” He declared in pleasure. “What else makes you shiver, Mickey?”

This was going too far! But unbidden Ian’s hands came to his mind and he did more than shiver. He relaxed and softened just slightly.

“I imagine Dante naked in my arms, my lips on his.” Sebastián stretched around Mickey until his mouth could connect with his lover’s. Their full lips fit together and opened slightly. Mickey watched their eyes close from the two-inch distance separating him from their kiss. If he moved even slightly his lips would be involved in more than an innocent dance. It was mesmerizing in equal parts horror inducing and erection inducing.

“Your bodies better not start fucking communicating with me in the room.”

But as their lips thankfully separated, Mickey knew the idea of Ian and the visual he’d just been given had the effect Sebastián had intended. When he felt the pressure on his hip once again, he let himself very briefly imagine the activity his hips loved above all.

 

 

That night, Mandy lay on the sofa exhausted from a difficult day of sun tanning. Mickey stopped in front of her, blocking the Spanish game show she was watching and laughing at hysterically. He handed her a tiny bottle of sunscreen.

“I can’t believe Ian forgot this,” he complained loudly so Ian would hear him from the kitchen where he was finishing the dinner dishes. “He spent almost a year with a burned nose, so he should know to watch out for your nose.” He gave her a hard look. “Don’t leave home without it.”

“Yes, Dad,” she absently replied, but the word was like a grotesque elephant had entered the room. Mandy’s index finger with its black painted nail traced the back of Mickey’s fingers where his tattoos once sat. “I was surprised to see your fingers bare when you came home at Christmas, but I was even more surprised to not see him like a shadow around you anymore. I’m so proud of you.” She whispered the final sentence then jumped up. “Bedtime for me! Ian’s got me working my fingers to the bone.”

Mickey stood where she left him wishing he was faster at responding when things mattered. He didn’t want to have anymore regrets, damn it.

“I’m proud of you too,” he hollered.

“Damn right, you should be,” she hollered back before shutting her bedroom door.

Ian was beaming from the kitchen entry, of course. “Yeah, yeah, Gallagher.” Then Ian leapt over the back of the couch and landed on his ass on the leather cushion, pulling Mickey into his lap.

“I’m not a fucking baby, man.”

Ian’s nose nuzzled his neck. “You’re my baby.”

Mickey started to pull away but relented. “Fine. One minute, that’s it.” He relaxed into Ian’s arms, resting his cheek on his shoulder.

“Really? Shit. Okay.” His large freckled hand ran down the back of Mickey’s head and over his spine. “Pull your knees closer.”

“Um, no.”

“At least get them up on the couch.”

With a mild look of exasperation, he pulled them up and Ian wrapped his hand around his knee. “This is fucking ridiculous. Of all the role plays…” his voice drifted off as Ian rested his cheek against his head and gently rocked side to side. He should be annoyed or embarrassed he told himself. But instead he rested his hand on Ian’s chest where he figured he’d find the surest beat of his heart. When he found it, the pumping sent a response throughout his body. Each thump awakened a nerve ending.

This was their bodies communicating.


	2. Come to me, sweetly

Malagana Café & Bar is one of many food vendors on Calle de la Sierpe, a bright graffiti riddled barrio in the heart of old Cartagena. The two-story restaurant has an open air rooftop patio as well as a quaint restaurant below it. As it’s Mickey and Ian’s favorite place in the city, they figured it was the only place they’d want to have a wedding. The café owners and staff not only embraced the idea of having the ceremony on the rooftop but were also guests.

All the details had been handled and anything that hadn’t been handled wasn’t gonna get handled as the ceremony was going to begin in less than a half hour. Mickey was pacing the rooftop and gulping down a Coke. He didn’t want to start drinking cause he figured he might never stop. Tomás smiled boyishly at him from behind the long bar each time he passed, while the middle aged Spanish officiant tried to calm his nerves by talking about the vows he’d be reading and asking if he had Ian’s ring, which of course struck fear in his heart and he stuffed his hand into his suit jacket for the thousandth time. Still there.  

What the hell was wrong with him? He was working himself up into a frenzy. Fuck, why hadn’t they just signed a piece of fucking paper? Oh, right. That’s why. No sense going down that depressing road of memories. It sucked ass the first time he’d gone down it, and it didn’t get better with reminiscing.

He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, while patting his other pocket for smokes that weren’t there. Damn world and its fucking non-smoking rules. His brain had been going in this revolving loop of insanity since he’d parted ways with Ian earlier this afternoon. Ian had gone to their hotel room with Mandy to get ready, and Mickey had finished his prep with Sebastián hovering around him like a personal valet. Then his Colombian best man had fucked off on some errand and left him more or less alone the last half hour.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he touched the screen. Ian’s face smiled at him. Fucking sap, what grown man puts his boyfriend’s picture on his lock screen? Ian, that’s who. He’d gone into Mickey’s phone and put pictures of himself on every wallpaper option he could find. Now Mickey scrolled through looking at each one.

It was strangely calming. It always had been, knowing Ian existed somewhere in the world gave Mickey a sense of peace he could call upon whenever he needed it. Even when they weren’t together, living a world apart, even when he was actually pissed at the asshole, he could conjure Ian’s stupid fucking face and find that sense of peace. Like he belonged some where, like someone, one single person, got him. His existence mattered because it mattered to Ian.

Briefly, he had mattered to Ernesto too, and that was when he realized that he was more than what the southside had tried to convince him he was. It hurt almost as much to think about Ernesto as it had to think about Ian. Where would he be now if Ernesto hadn’t died? Jesus, here he goes again. Snap the fuck out of it, Milkovich. _Ping._

The phone, still in his hand, came to life. Of course, Gallagher would know he’s in a spiral of doubts and fears and self-consciousness.

Ian: How bad is it?

Mickey: How bad do you think it is?

Ian: That bad, huh?

Mickey: I’ll survive

Ian: You might not survive the night though

Mickey: You think getting me hard right now is a good idea?

Ian: I think getting you hard is always a good idea

Mickey: The priest dude agrees with you

Ian: I’m going to hell

Mickey: I’ll be waiting for you

Ian: YOU’RE NOT GOING FIRST

Mickey: Together

Ian: Fuck you Mickey don’t make me fucking cry right now

Mickey: Why? Did Mandy already do your makeup?

Ian: I’m gonna suck your dick so fucking hard you’re gonna come twice

Mickey: Asshole

Ian: Don’t get me started on that

The café door opened catching Mickey’s eye because he wasn’t expecting any guests for about 15 more minutes. But it was only Sebastián who entered, dressed for a wedding far more elaborate than this one. His slim fit black trousers and short sleeved dress shirt looked like they were made for him and only him. As usual, Mickey’s eyes struggled with how fucking good looking Sebastián was especially when he went all out like this, but more important to him was the measure of calm he felt knowing that the flamboyant Colombian would not only keep him occupied but also knew exactly what to do in every situation.

Then Yev walked in behind him and Mickey just about dropped the phone, which buzzed in his hand at that moment. He looked down at it in a daze.

Ian: You’re quiet. Is he there?

Is he there? The question ricocheted around his head. Was Ian referring to Sebastián or Yev? Did he know about Yev? _Ping._

Ian: I love you baby. See you soon.

Mickey let the phone hang from his hand, as Sebastián draped his arm around Yev’s shoulders and walked him forward. There was just no way Mickey could make his legs move. His brain was still processing a ton of shit. First and foremost, was this real?

Sebastián smiled at him, probably worried that he’d lost his fucking tongue. They didn’t stop when they reached Mickey, instead Sebastián pulled them all together in an awkward group hug that worked to break the ice. When they pulled apart, Yev was laughing a little and watching Mickey carefully.

Sebastián explained, “Dante dropped us off here and he’s returning to the hotel for everyone else. They should be arriving back here in,” he glanced at his Bremont military watch that Mickey would give a nut to own, “15 minutes.”

Once again Sebastián managed to shake him loose from his trance. He looked at Yev. “How’d you get here?” he asked leaving a hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“Plane,” he smirked a little and Mickey nodded his approval. “I came with Fiona.”

“Fiona’s here? Does Ian know?”

“Yeah, Ian arranged with her to bring me.”

Mickey processed that for a future conversation with Ian. Then he shot a stream of questions at Yev about his trip, his urinary system, his hydration, his trip home.

“You came dressed for a fucking wedding?” Mickey asked looking at Yev’s crisp white button down shirt and brand new jeans.

“Fiona and I went shopping this morning.”

“When’d you get here?” he asked frowning.

“Late last night.”

“Oh. Where’d you stay?”

“The same hotel where Ian is getting ready. Then we’re all staying with you and Ian for the rest of the week.” He grinned.

“That’s gonna be fucking cozy.”

“Yup.”

“We’ll share a room and let the rest of them figure it out.” They nodded at each other, two sets of eyebrows agreeing to that plan.

The next 15 minutes were busy greeting people. They’d invited a few clients and a few people from their housing complex. Between them and the people from the bar, 25 guests were milling about the rooftop. Mickey introduced Yev with obvious pleasure and pride. Yev greeted everyone with typical 13-year-old discomfort.

Sebastián and Tomás set up a Skype call to Chicago on the big screen above the bar. Kev had done the same on his end, and after some technical malfunctions and impressive Spanish swearing, his and V’s faces appeared on the screen. They shot a few catcalls at Mickey about his fancy suit, and Mickey sent them a salute. He could hear some familiar voices in the background, voices from his past. But he wasn’t letting his thoughts go there again.

One by one, Gallaghers appeared on the screen saying hello. Then Iggy’s face appeared, way to close to the camera. “Finally gettin’ hitched, huh? ‘Bought fuckin’ time,” Iggy yelled.

“I’m getting married not losing my fucking hearing,” Mickey snarked without any heat. His brother had taken the time to show up for this. “Where’s Colin?”

“In the can.”

“What’s he in for?”

“I didn’t ask, but it’s been awhile so I imagine a shit. Want me to take the camera in there and find out?”

“Jesus,” Mickey had to actually laugh. “Uh, no, Iggy, I don’t want you to do that. Thanks for dragging his ass here. Gotta go do my own shit now.”

“Peace, brother.”

As the sun was setting, Mickey, Yev and Sebastián lined up next to the officiant. Mickey tried not to yank at the collar of his dress shirt or stuff his hand in the pocket of his suit jacket once more. Instead, he looked at Yev and made a few faces like this was torture. Yev nodded wholeheartedly.

Soft music was playing from the sound system, and the usual lanterns were lit around the room. Mickey couldn’t even remember one single thing he was supposed to make sure was done, so he just let his mind go blank. He needed to get through some vows, some speeches and one dance. Then he and Ian could get out of here and—

He arrived. Mandy and Fiona beside him. Each of them dressed in some combination of black and white. They came forward and did all the right stuff. Listening to the opening remarks and making promises to have and hold, both in Spanish and English. They agreed in both languages.

No one had any reasons for them to not get married. Mickey’s eyes had shot to Fiona’s of their own accord, but she only smiled at him. Each milestone in the ceremony acted like a balm on Mickey’s nervous system.

Hearing Ian say “I do”, his voice cracking a tiny bit while his eyes bore into Mickey’s, making it clear that he intended to take his vows seriously.

Sliding the ring onto Ian’s finger, his own hand shaking just a little bit but his grip firm, making it clear that he wanted the world to know he was married to Ian.

Signing the register, knowing that it was now all official and essentially over, just a little celebrating left.

They kissed when prompted. Mickey thought it was a pretty chaste kiss considering what most of their kisses were like, until he started to pull away and his bottom lip was still between Ian’s lips. He could feel the pull as Ian sucked on it. Hard. He brought his mouth back to Ian’s and felt him smile. Their eyes opened and met each other. “Yum,” Ian whispered.

The guests both here and on the screen clapped and whooped, and it was done. They were married. It had taken about 10 minutes to bind himself to Ian for life. Both back in his bedroom 15 years ago and again today.

Appetizers were laid out on a long table, alcohol started to flow, and people started clinking their glasses demanding more kisses. By the time the speeches were done, Ian had kissed every square inch of Mickey’s face, and Mickey had pretended to hate every single one of them. Scowling each time, but his hand never left Ian’s.

Mandy thanked everyone for coming and explained a few of the housekeeping details, then asked anyone who was interested to say a few words. Dante translate the important parts into Spanish.

Ian stood up beside him and cleared his throat. He lifted a wine glass from the table. “To my husband, the man of my dreams—who’s rolling his eyes right now. The worst mistake I ever made was to hurt him. The best decision I ever made was to chase Lip across South America. The only reason I’ll ever need to be happy is him. To Mickey.” The usual clapping and cheering and kissing followed this. Ian leaned down for the kiss and whispered into it, “What you and I have makes me free too.”

Fiona read a poem about soulmates, which surprised Mickey. But after she finished reading it, she slid it into his jacket pocket right where Ian’s ring had sat all day. Then she kissed his cheek lightly.

Lip yelled slightly passive aggressive things from the tv screen but ended by admitting that he could die happy knowing that Mickey and Ian finally got their shit together because the rest of the world could stop watching them mope around.

Iggy announced that he and Colin would be stepping outside and smoking a blunt in his honor.

Sebastián spouted more mush than Mickey felt was necessary for a dozen weddings. Then he kissed Dante like it was their fucking wedding. Mickey was secretly happy for it all as it totally deflected attention off of him and Ian for about 10 minutes. He took the time to breathe and gather his thoughts, knowing that the big moment was getting close.

Ian looked at him with a frown, obviously asking without words what was bothering him. Instead of replying, he jumped up and went to the bar. Tomás handed him two Jack Daniels without him having to ask. Good man. Probably trying to keep on his good side so he could get in his sister’s pants. He downed them both in what might have been record time, even for him.

The sun had fully set, and all the patio lanterns were lit now. The warm night air wasn’t stifling now that the sun was gone. The setting was perfect. Sebastián had his song all queued up and Mickey felt like throwing up. He turned to Tomás signalling for two more JD’s but Sebastián stepped up to the bar beside him and shook his head at Tomás.

“Too much alcohol will have the opposite effect. You will become sloppy. My reputation is on the line,” Sebastián scolded him. “In the words of my closest friend: grow a fucking pair, Milkovich.”

“Fuck you, Navarro,” Mickey retorted with a little heat. “And fuck you for always getting in my head.”

“You are most welcome. I love you and want to see you make every man and woman in the room swoon watching you dance with Ian.”

“Please,” Mickey rolled his eyes yet again. “That’s ridiculous, even for you.”

Sebastián just smiled. Smugly.

“Fine, start the fucking music.” With that he stomped, most inelegantly, toward Ian.

Mickey felt his heartbeat speed up in fear, anticipation, like an athlete preparing for the big game or some shit. Not that he’d know about that because—okay, he might actually be losing his mind. He rolled his shoulders, shaking them out as Sebastián prepared to hit play on the sound system.

Breathing deeply through his nose, Mickey walked toward Ian who was standing with Fiona and Yev. In what felt like slow motion, Ian turned to look at him with a small smile, almost absently. He looked down at Mickey’s outstretched hand, tilting his head in confusion laced humor. But it only lasted a second because the music started, and Mickey watched it wash over him. Awareness of what Mickey was asking him to do.

 _The way you're bathed in light_  
_Reminds me of that night_  
_God laid me down into your rose garden of trust_

Ian put his hand in Mickey’s, his fingers closing tightly. The touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure up Mickey’s arm. Every nerve ending in his body was alive, with the idea of dancing in public with Ian, of merging their bodies to the rhythm of the music and the message in the lyrics. This dance was his vow to Ian.

 _And I was swept away_  
_With nothin' left to say_  
_Some helpless fool_

_Yeah I was lost in a swoon of peace_

Mickey stepped backward toward the center of the dance floor, pulling Ian by their linked hands. As the music filled the rooftop, his left hand found Ian’s mid-back and firmly forged their bodies together. Their clasped hands raised and their eyes met. Ian was always an open book to him, even during the worst times. He always knew and he knew now. Ian understood what Mickey was doing and why he was doing it.

 _You're all I need to find_  
_So when the time is right_  
_Come to me sweetly, come to me_

They started to move, chest to chest, breath to breath. Mickey was leading and Ian was following. With a little pressure on their hands, Ian stepped backward. He wondered if Ian was even aware of what just happened, or if he did it automatically, so in tuned with Mickey’s body.

_Love will lead us, alright  
Love will lead us, she will lead us _

_It's in the air we breathe tonight_

As the music swelled to the chorus, they moved faster across the dance floor, but the movements became more intimate, more subtle, more about just them. Mickey could feel Ian’s heart beating against his chest, matching his own, beat for beat. Their foreheads touched lightly.

 _Oh yeah, we meet again_  
_It's like we never left_  
_Time in between was just a dream_

Mickey had picked the song carefully, to tell him with music and with dance all the stuff he wasn’t going to be able to tell him with his words. Above all, he wanted Ian to know that he forgave him for anything that might have been his fault. That whatever happened in the past happened because it needed to. Because it got them here to this moment.

 _This crazy fog surrounds me_  
_You wrap your legs around me_  
_All I can do to try and breathe_

Ian’s lips moved toward his ear, his breath carried the words to every nerve ending in Mickey’s body. Images of his legs wrapped around Ian just about bringing the dance to an end.

_Let me breathe so that I  
So we can go together!_

His arms tightened around Ian as he performed his one fancy twirl. Ian’s eyes widened in surprise. Ha! Fucker probably thought they’d spend the dance swaying in one spot. A bubble of pride rose in him and pushed the fear and embarrassment out of the way. He could breathe now.

 _We are lost 'til we are found_  
_This phoenix rises up from the ground_  
_And all these wars are over_

They stopped in the middle of the dance floor holding each other tightly. Heads bowed together. The moment felt like a promise. The second chance they both had wanted for so long.

_Over  
Over_

They kissed like it was the beginning, after way too many good-byes.


	3. Love will lead us, all right

They burst out the front door of the café onto the colorful street of Spanish colonial buildings. As it was a Saturday night and not late by South American standards, the area was busy. Music competed from all directions, people were laughing and walking and mingling. It was a sight that Mickey and Ian had seen often over the last year and a half, but tonight they felt like they were at the center of it all. Like maybe it existed to celebrate them.

They grabbed each other’s hands and walked happily toward their hotel. Anticipation was like a blanket around them causing them to glance at each other every few seconds. Ian hummed a little and started to sing, “Come to me sweetly, come to me.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but smiled feeling kind a proud of himself. This fucker can dance, he thought.

“You wrap your legs around me,” Ian continued to sing loud enough for the block to hear.

“I’m gonna wrap my hand over your mouth,” Mickey complained.

“My husband can dance,” Ian bragged to a passing group of women, who clapped their drunken hands and started to dance with each other. “This is my husband,” he explained pointing at Mickey. “We just got married.” This lead to lots of hugging and kissing and hooting.

“You’re my husband,” Ian chanted once the women had moved on and they continued toward their hotel.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s enough out of you.”

“My hubby.”

Eye roll.

“My old man.”

“Goof.”

“My groom. My significant other. My—”

“Better half.”

“Truth,” Ian agreed readily. “I’m so fucking happy, I wanna scream at the top of my lungs. I want everyone on this street to know that I’m married to Mickey fucking Milkovich.” By the time he finished that sentence, he had basically achieved his goal.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Don’t you want everyone to know you’re married to Ian Gallagher?” He asked pretending to be offended.

Mickey eyed him for a moment and stopped. He opened his mouth, took a deep breath and watched Ian’s eyes light up in anticipation. “I need a smoke, man,” he said after releasing his breath.

Ian looked a little disappointed, but didn’t complain.

Mickey grabbed his hand again and pulled him into his embrace resurrecting a few of his dance moves before releasing him and walking away. Ian was happy once again.

Then he stopped on the sidewalk, pulling on Mickey’s hand. “Wait. How do you know how to dance?”

Mickey knew his face was giving away the fact he felt sort of guilty.

“Sebastián,” Ian said with certainty. “You spent the last few weeks dancing with him?” Mickey swallowed and Ian stepped close to him. “I’ll be sure to thank him.”

And Mickey relaxed.

“With a kiss.”

Ian walked past him, pulling smokes from his jacket pocket.

By the time they finished a smoke, they arrived at the yellow stuccoed two-story hotel. Ian pulled one of the double doors open for Mickey and bowed slightly as he entered the dim lobby. Mickey gave him a superior nod, nose held high. So Ian smacked his ass and Mickey jumped in surprise.

The little Colombian lady behind the counter smiled at their antics as they made their way up the stairs. At the door to their room, Ian fiddled around with the key while Mickey fiddled around with Ian.

“You’re fucking hot, man.”

“Mick! I’m never gonna get the key in if you keep that up.”

“Keep what up? This?” Mickey slipped his hand down Ian’s pants. Ian groaned and pushed his ass into Mickey’s groin. “Touche, Ian, touche.”

Finally, inside, Mickey looked around the room. It was as colorful as the outside of the hotel. A large bed, small sitting area with a sofa and tv. Large bathroom with a blue tiled jacuzzi that looked more like a tiny swimming pool than a tub.

“Oh shit, I forgot your present down in the Jeep,” Ian said.

“We can do that tomorrow. The Jeep’s in the parkade next door.”

“I’ll be quick,” he said pecking Mickey’s lips.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. Explore the mini-fridge and don’t get undressed!” Then he was out the door.

One beer and one cigarette later, Mickey heard a knock on the door while he leaned on the railing of the balcony overlooking the busy Barrio Getsemani. He dropped the smoke into the empty beer bottle and headed to the door, wondering who was knocking this late. Probably some room service that Ian had ordered. Fucking chocolate covered strawberries or some romantic shit like that. Should a thought of that, he scolded himself.

Pulling open the door, his eyes widened then travelled over the body in front of him. Of course.

Long sleeve, black mesh shirt, nearly transparent and fitting like a second skin. Loose fitting black cotton lounge pants riding so low, Mickey could see a lot of pelvis. His eyes strayed there for a couple of beats.  Until the sleek black bag slung over his shoulder swung around obstructing his view for a moment.

“Hi,” came a seductive purr. “You Mickey?”

“Definitely.”

“I’m Ian.”

“Um, hi, Ian.”

“You ordered a date?”

“Definitely.” Mickey moved backwards as his date moved into the room and dropped his bag on the floor.

The door clicked shut.

Ian reached for the loose tie at Mickey’s neck and tangled his hand in it. Lightly at first. “Mmm, must be my lucky night. You’re gorgeous.”

He lifted the tie and twisted it in his hand until it wound tightly around Mickey’s throat. Then he twisted just a little more. Mickey tried to swallow and felt the constriction. His eyes flew to Ian’s and widened in pleasure.

The tie fell from Ian’s hand. Damn it.

His fingers ran along Mickey’s shoulder as he moved to stand behind him. Reaching around, he grasped the lapels of Mickey’s suit jacket, pulling it over his shoulders and down his arms.

Ian walked away, toward the sitting area and draped the jacket over the back of a chair and placed his bag beside it. The soft, silky material of Ian’s pants caressed his ass and actually made Mickey’s mouth water. Why’d they wait so fucking long to get married, he wondered.

Ian returned to him and crowded right up into his space. “How’s your day been so far?” He winked.

“Can’t complain.”

They started to sway a little and Ian lifted Mickey’s hands to his hips, his fingers touching the bare skin of his pelvis. Stroking that skin, Mickey thought about their dance and his hips moved in memory. He moved his knee between Ian’s legs and shifted his hips again, while his right hand slid around to Ian’s back and down beneath his lounge pants.

They moved a little in a half assed dance, making their way to the sofa. Ian reached for his tie again, but instead of tightening it, he lifted the end over Mickey’s shoulder so he could undo each button on his dress shirt. Running his hand down his husband’s chest, he gave a slight push and Mickey’s ass hit the sofa cushion. Ian leaned over and kissed him lightly.

Retrieving his bag, he pulled his iPhone out, then picked up the remote control for the tv. After a moment of swiping and clicking, Ian returned to him and sank to his knees on the floor between his legs.

Mickey’s attention was divided between the sexy music coming from the still black screen and Ian’s hands undoing the laces of his shoe. As the music continued, one shoe and sock were removed, and warm fingers massaged his foot and moved up to his calf.

Just as Ian moved to his other foot, another Ian appeared on the tv screen. That Ian was laying on their bed naked. Mickey’s brain stopped functioning for a moment as he tried to figure out what he was seeing because he definitely felt like he’d seen this before. Then his own bare ass came into view at the same time as the Ian between his legs pushed his erection into the bottom of Mickey’s foot. He ground himself into the foot while the Ian in the porno crawled across the bed toward the other Mickey.

He tried so hard to tear his eyes away from the scene on the tv to watch the Ian between his knees spread his shirt open and kiss his chest, but porn Ian was going to town on porn Mickey’s cock and he could hear himself making grunting noises.

“Fuck,” he exhaled as real Ian unzipped him. Jesus Christ, he was gonna get head while watching himself get head. Ian’s warm, wet mouth tore a groan from his throat and porn Mickey grabbed Ian’s hair pushing himself further into his mouth.

Then Ian opened his eyes and looked into the camera, and Mickey just about shot his load into Ian’s mouth. He grabbed the back of Ian’s head and lifted his ass off the sofa cushion slightly. His eyes closed as his head fell back on the sofa, until he heard himself panting loudly. Fuck, which Mickey made that sound? Looking back at the screen, he could tell by the frantic pumping of his hips that he was close. Then he watched as Ian slid his fingers between his ass cheeks and pushed the other Mickey over the edge, his head tipping back and both of his hands on Ian’s head.

“Fuck.” Mickey’s attention returned to the real Ian, and he shoved up and into his mouth with more force than he intended. But Ian didn’t flinch, he just ran his hand up Mickey’s chest until he could grasp the tie again. He slowly started to twist it cutting off Mickey’s breath a little more with each twist. When Ian intensified the suction on his cock, Mickey came hard and Ian released the tie but kept his hand at Mickey’s throat.

Without warning, Ian released him and jumped into his lap, straddling his hips. “I told you you'd come twice.” His lips found Mickey’s with enough force to send his head back to the sofa cushion. As the kiss intensified, Ian lifted himself up to his knees so he was towering over Mickey, his hard-on pressed to Mickey’s chest and his mouth punishing his lips.

So Mickey flipped Ian over until his back was on the sofa. He moved the soft material of the lounge pants out of the way and wrapped his hand around Ian’s massive hard-on. Pumping it, he watched Ian’s chest heaving and his arms come up around his head so his hands could push into the arm of the sofa giving him the resistance to arch his back.

“Fuck,” Mickey said yet again. He swallowed as much of Ian as he could, bobbing his head as fast as he could. Almost wishing this would be over because he was aching for something more. It didn’t take long for Ian to fill Mickey’s mouth. For a few minutes, they just laid there still fully clothed. Ian prone along the sofa, his arms crossed over his eyes. Mickey half sitting between his legs, his cheek pressed into Ian’s pelvis. Then Mickey reached his fingers along Ian’s mesh covered chest, and he tapped his chest a couple of times until Ian’s fingers found his and they linked over his heart.

Eventually, Ian gave Mickey’s hand a good tug, signalling him to come lay down. He crawled over Ian until he could wedge himself between man and sofa. Ian turned toward him and shoved his knee between Mickey’s legs.

“No going to sleep, Mick. That was only round one. We gotta go a few more.”

“’Specially since we got a houseful of people all week.” He opened his eyes to find Ian’s open too. “Speaking of which.”

“Yev.”

“Yeah, you fucker. Keeping shit like that from me. Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“I wish I could a been there. Seen your expression,” he pouted. “I love your expressions. They’re the cutest thing about you, and there are a lot of cute things about you.”

“I’m gonna let that one go tonight cause I’m in a post sex bubble,” he replied, stifling a yawn.

“I’m gonna keep you in that bubble for a long time.”

“With two chicks and a teenage boy in the house?”

“We’ll figure it out. Like the old days.”

“Maybe we can find a freezer somewhere.” They laughed at the memory, which lead to more memories, and their lips came together. The kiss got a little passionate before Ian pulled back.

“Remember when you didn’t want to kiss me?” he asked, his lips about an inch from Mickey’s.

“No.”

“No, you don’t remember?”

“No, I’ve never not wanted to kiss you.”

“Even when you were threatening to cut my tongue out?”

“Especially then.”

A few more soft kisses and Ian pulled away again. “I’m ready for round two.”

“Yeah, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’m going to make love to you.”

“Shut up.”

“Mhm, slow sweet love.”

Mickey squished his face into Ian’s neck. “I’m warning you, Ian.”

“It’s gonna get all emotional and shit. You’re gonna feel stuff cause I’m going to be staring into your eyes.”

“This is going too far.”

“I’ll fill you up while you wrap your legs around me,” he whispered now in Mickey’s ear. “I’ll definitely be moving slowly cause I want you to feel everything.”

“Ian...”

“I love being inside you and hearing you moan my name.”

“Ian...”

“Yeah, like that but with more moaning. Try again.”

“Ian.”

“Nope. That was more of a whine than a moan. One more try.”

“Ian.”

“Definitely not. I don’t think you get it. I’ll make sure when I’m buried deep inside you to hit just the right spot so you remember how to say it properly.”

Ian was laughing by the time he finished, and Mickey was pinching his nipple through the mesh. As Ian’s hand came up to grab Mickey’s they twisted just enough that Ian slipped off the sofa to the carpeted floor, pulling Mickey on top of him. They grunted from the impact, but that didn’t stop them from grabbing at each other, pressing every inch of themselves together.

“I la you,” Ian said, slurring the words because Mickey’s tongue was in the way.

“Mhm,” Mickey replied.

Ian’s hands were trying to pull Mickey’s pants down and Mickey was helping but it wasn’t going very well because they couldn’t seem to separate their lips. Eventually, Ian couldn’t stand it and he pulled away enough to yell, “Get your fucking clothes off, Mick. I need to get in that ass. No jokes now.”

Amidst lots of huffing and puffing and grunting and groaning, Mickey got his pants most of the way off. Enough for Ian to have access to all the necessary parts. While Mickey was shuffling around, Ian pulled his bag off the chair above his head and emptied it to the floor. He blindly tossed items around until his fingers located lube.  

Then he stopped and Mickey mumbled a frustrated, “what?”

“I can’t make love to you on a floor. Get up. Let’s go to th—”

And a gunshot pierced the night air.

“Aw fuck. Not again. I'm not letting you out of my sight, Gallagher."

"I'm not worried. You'll just save me again," Ian smiled. "Let's go practice saying my name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful conversations, for sharing what you think and sharing your friendship. Okay, no more mushiness...I'm gonna go write something tragic and heartbreaking now. ;) Like maybe Yev will go on his first date...


End file.
